


on target

by 1000_directions



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, No Sex, Secret Relationship, Winterhawk Fic Exchange, one of those fics where everyone lives together in the tower and we just go with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17190104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: Everyone finds out that Bucky and Clint are boyfriends, not that they’ve been trying to hide it.





	on target

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yulecogs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulecogs/gifts).



> Hello! Welcome to my first proper Marvel fic!
> 
> Thanks so much to JenJo for organizing this and fielding my many annoying questions. Thanks to yulecogs for a prompt that felt so ‘me’ that I was sure I must have sent it myself; I hope you like it!
> 
> Thank you Jamila for being my best brainstorming buddy. Thank you Anna and Adri for reading this over. Thank you to Angela for watching horror movies so I wouldn’t have to. And thank you, thank you, thank you to Quinn for always fixing what doesn’t work while reminding me that most of it does.

Bucky’s got one hand up the back of Clint’s shirt and one tongue down the front of his throat when Steve walks in and makes the most undignified squeak of protest that Bucky has ever heard.

“Do you mind?” Bucky asks grumpily, swiping the back of his hand over his wet lips. “You’re killing the mood here, Stevie.”

“What,” Steve says, and he blinks at them and doesn’t manage to finish his question.

“JARVIS, do you have audio playback of that noise Steve made when he walked in here?” Clint asks, licking at his lips in a way that makes Bucky hungry for his own taste of them. Dammit, Steve.

“I do, Mr. Barton,” JARVIS informs them solemnly.

“JARVIS, play back Steve screeching like a child because he saw two boys kissing,” Clint says as fast as he can, managing to get the words out long before Steve concludes his own stern: “JARVIS, do _not_ play that back.”

JARVIS plays the sound back to them, and it’s even funnier the second time, now that Bucky isn’t distracted by Clint’s mouth against his, now that he and Clint can watch Steve’s face getting progressively redder.

“Regretfully, Captain Rogers, your request was too late,” JARVIS says afterwards, and Clint laughs so hard that he slips sideways and falls off the couch, banging his elbow against the tasteful coffee table for the third time this week that Bucky’s seen.

“Aw, elbow,” Clint says pitifully, poking at it gingerly. He slowly gets to his feet and sullenly slumps back into Bucky’s lap, but he preens when Bucky puts a comforting hand on his hip.

“Stop talking about elbows,” Steve says, his wide eyes flicking from Bucky to Clint and back again. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“I’m kissing my boyfriend,” Clint says, leaning in to give a Bucky an unexpected kiss that’s mostly teeth on teeth, but Bucky catches Clint’s face with his left hand and softens the kiss, licks easily into Clint’s yielding mouth. He tastes like coffee, coffee, coffee, with a slightly metallic undertaste. Blood? Jesus, Clint, how many times a day can one man split his lip?

“Like hell you are,” Steve says.

“Don’t make a big deal about it, Stevie,” Bucky says, thumbing at Clint’s hurt elbow until he’s practically purring from the attention. “Settle down, it’s 2018.”

“Love is love, Cap,” Clint adds helpfully.

“I don’t-- I’m not _homophobic_ ,” Steve says, shaking his head in disgust. “But like hell he’s your boyfriend. I would know if he was your boyfriend.”

“Apparently not,” Clint says, “because he is, and you don’t.”

“For how long?” Steve challenges them, crossing his arms in a way that he thinks looks intimidating, and probably would be if they didn’t all know that Captain America was just a stealth suit full of marshmallows.

“A year,” Clint says before Bucky can answer, and Bucky tilts his head to the side and sees the corner of Clint’s mouth twitch in a secret smile. Okay then, it seems like they’re doing this.

“Absolutely,” Bucky says. “Surprised it took you this long to figure out I had a boyfriend, Steve.” And he’s trying to sound nonchalant, but even just saying the word out loud where someone else can hear makes his heartbeat go a little screwy. Clint Barton is his boyfriend. Clint, who is one part walking disaster, one part good intentions imperfectly executed, and one part the biggest biceps Bucky has even seen on someone who wasn’t a supersoldier. It’s a good combination. Clint is a good catch, and Bucky caught him, and he probably has a really, really dumb smile on his face right now.

“No,” Steve says flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Bucky says with an easy grin, pulling Clint in for another kiss, a little messier this time because fuck it. If Clint wants to go full tilt into this thing, then Bucky is happy to follow his lead.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

It’s Natasha’s voice this time, and Bucky groans, pulling back from Clint reluctantly. Natasha and Peter have both entered the common space with a stack of pizza boxes. Clint has his back to them, and he must not have heard them come in because he frowns and tries to catch Bucky’s mouth again. Bucky inclines his head slightly and mouths the word _pizza_ to him, and Clint’s head snaps around like he’s experiencing a ghost possession.

Bucky knows about possessions and poltergeists and exorcisms and creepy fucking clowns because he and Clint spent a good portion of October working their way through all of the horror movies that Clint deemed classics. Clint’s understanding of the word “classic” proved a little generous and possibly included every horror movie ever made, judging by how much of the month they spent huddled together on Clint’s couch with the lights out and the eerie glow of the television the only other witness to how Bucky screeched during the mirror scene in _Poltergeist 3_.

(Clint laughed about it for a good five minutes, but he did ask JARVIS to delete the footage afterwards, and he didn’t tease Bucky at all when he was jumpy in front of mirrors for the rest of the day. And when Bucky couldn’t sleep that night, Clint seemed downright remorseful, silently helping Bucky gather up all the mirrors from their floor and lugging them out to the range at 3am. The two of them shot every last damned one to shards, and Clint gave him an alibi when Tony asked about it the next day. _Poltergeist 3_ can get fucked, but Clint has always been good with creatively destructive ways to process invasive feelings.)

“Pizza!” Clint says happily, squeezing Bucky’s hand in gratitude, and even in profile, Bucky can see the contented smile spreading across his face.

“No pizza for you,” Natasha says with a frown. “No pizza for anyone until someone explains what’s going on.”

“Steve is in denial about our relationship,” Bucky says, running his fingers through the short hairs on the back of Clint’s neck. He looks so good from this angle, something about the strong line of his jaw and the slope of his cheekbone, and Bucky presses a soft, chaste kiss behind his ear, careful not to jostle his aids.

“What relationship?” Natasha asks, and her eyes are narrow and sharp like spears, and she impales Clint with her gaze. Bucky watches the lines of his throat as he swallows hard.

“Our relationship,” Clint says defensively. “It’s not like we were keeping it a secret. It’s not our fault that none of you noticed. I think I’m insulted, actually.”

“Oh, you’ll know when you’re being insulted,” Natasha says, arching one severe, imposing eyebrow.

“These pizzas are getting kinda heavy,” Peter interjects nervously, shifting from foot to foot and not making eye contact with anyone. “I’m just going to put them down. It’s cool, it’s cool. Keep talking. I’m just gonna--”

Bucky can see the way Clint’s eyes are darting back and forth as he tries to follow the flow of the conversation. Even with the aids, he has trouble keeping up sometimes when too many people are talking at once, so Bucky leans forward on the couch and angles his body so he’s within Clint’s field of vision. He keeps his hands settled and relaxed on his lap, ready to jump in with a signed explanation if Clint turns to him with the nearly imperceptible eyebrow twitch that means he needs help but doesn’t want to draw attention to it. Clint seems to be following along okay for now, but the least Bucky can do for his boyfriend is remain vigilant.

“What do you mean, you weren’t keeping it a secret?” Steve asks suddenly.

“I sat in his lap at breakfast every day this week,” Clint says.

“You’re Hawkeye,” Steve says. “You like to...perch!”

“I hand-fed him bits of pancake from my plate,” Bucky says, tapping Clint’s hip and giving him a small smile.

“And he let me lick the syrup off his metal fingers,” Clint adds happily.

“You’re Clint. You eat floor pizza,” Natasha says with a frown. “I thought that was just you being gross.”

“You are pretty gross, babe,” Bucky says affectionately, and Clint shrugs and kisses him. 

“He lets me braid his hair during movie night,” Clint says when he pulls back. “That’s been going on for months.”

“Everyone knows Bucky likes having his hair played with,” Natasha says. “That doesn’t count.”

“The real question,” Steve says slowly, “is how Clint learned to braid hair.”

That actually is a valid question, and Bucky cocks his head and waits for Clint to answer.

“I learned because I knew you liked it,” Clint says cagily, looking into Bucky’s eyes. Bucky hadn’t known that, but he does love the feel of it, loves the focused attention of ritual grooming, and some part of that must reflect on his face because Clint smiles bashfully at him.

“We live together,” Bucky contributes. “He lets me walk his dog.”

“We _all_ live together,” Natasha corrects him, “and he _makes_ you walk his dog.”

“The Christmas card,” Steve says suddenly. “I forgot about the Christmas card.”

Actually... Bucky had also forgotten about the Christmas card.

“Right,” Clint says, darting a glance over at Bucky. “The Christmas card.”

“What Christmas card?” Peter asks with a mouthful of pizza. Clint looks longingly in the direction of the stacked boxes, but he stays seated under the full force of Natasha’s glare.

“The card of Clint and Bucky and Lucky in matching sweaters. They sent it to all of us last year,” Steve says. “Shit. I thought that was a joke.”

“I didn’t get a card,” Peter whines. “What did it look like?”

“I can display an archival copy of the Christmas card,” JARVIS interjects, and Bucky can’t even tell anymore if the AI is trying to help or hurt their case.

“Show it,” Clint says, resigned.

Every monitor on the wall instantly displays the card in question. Bucky and Clint and Lucky are indeed wearing matching red and green argyle sweaters, and they’re standing in front of a Christmas tree covered in ornaments shaped like rifles and arrows. Bucky and Clint have their arms around each other, identical cheesy smiles on their faces. The gold-foil text below the image reads “Hope You’re On Target For A Happy Holiday!”

“I was so distracted by the terrible pun that I didn’t realize it was a couples card,” Natasha muses.

“This was over a year ago,” Steve says, “and it’s decisive proof that you guys were a couple, and we’re all a bunch of heels for not realizing it sooner.”

“You should probably brew me a pot of the good coffee every morning before I wake up for a whole month as penance,” Clint says serenely, tucking his legs under himself on the couch and swaying dangerously off balance before Bucky slings an arm around his waist and prevents him from toppling over. Again.

“A week,” Steve says firmly, and Clint shrugs, and Bucky kisses his forehead just because they’re boyfriends and everyone knows it and he wants to.

Tony walks into the room then, sees the two of them tangled up together on the couch, cocks his head to one side and says, “Huh. I don’t know if I have a quip for this.”

“I’m sure you do,” Steve says tiredly.

“I appreciate your faith in me, Cap. Couldn’t do it without you. So, who’s going to tell me what’s going on in here?” He looks around the room with an eyebrow raised when he doesn’t get his explanation right away. “Spiderling, go.”

“Bucky and Clint have been dating for a year,” Peter says immediately. “They swear it wasn’t a secret, but none of us knew until right now.”

Tony furrows his brow and looks off into the distance for a few minutes before nodding his head. “Yeah, that tracks. Okay, some house rules.” He snaps his fingers at Clint and Bucky. “Hey, Full Metal Archery, eyes here. First of all, no funny business in front of the kids” -- he gestures to Peter, who grumbles -- “or the elderly” -- pointing at Steve, who rolls his eyes so aggressively that Bucky is surprised the room doesn’t shake. “Don’t discuss the intimate details of your sex life with the media unless you want to get reamed by Pepper, which is much less fun than it sounds like, trust me. And if you make a mess on any of my furniture, you let JARVIS know before the stain sets.”

“That’s it?” Steve says, disbelievingly.

“I think that just about covers it,” Tony says.

“Then can we have pizza now?” Bucky asks, and Clint perks up at the idea.

“If you’re such great boyfriends, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind sharing a piece,” Natasha says curtly. She liberates one piece from the box and unceremoniously drops it onto a paper towel and presents it to Clint. “You can have more tonight when we debrief about...whatever this is.”

“Okay,” Clint says meekly. 

“Okay, let’s take this party into the dining room and leave these two lovebirds alone,” Tony says, and then he frowns. “Lovehawks? Gimme a minute, I’ll think of something.”

Clint looks dejectedly at the lonely slice of pizza in his hands as everyone else shuffles out of the room. Bucky knows he feels guilty that Natasha is hurt, the same way Bucky feels guilty that Steve is hurt.

“You can have the whole piece,” Bucky tells him.

“Thanks.”

“You know I have to tell Steve that it’s only been three weeks,” Bucky says softly. “If I tell him tonight, it’s just a prank that got a little out of hand, but if I wait until tomorrow, we’re lying, and I can’t lie to him.”

“I know,” Clint says, and he leans his head against Bucky’s chest, and Bucky can feel the way the muscles shift in his face as he chews. “And I’ll tell Nat we were kidding around.”

“Okay.” They sit there quietly for a minute while Clint finishes his pizza. Bucky’s metal arm is still draped around Clint’s waist, and Bucky knows the weight of it, knows that it is mentally and physically and emotionally a lot to carry, but Clint never seems to mind. Bucky is the supersoldier, but Clint is strong in surprising ways.

“So,” Clint says when he’s done. “You realize that a lot of the evidence we gave them for our relationship is from before we were actually together.”

“I know.”

“Do you think it’s weird that we had a joint friends Christmas card?”

“I think absolutely everything about you is weird,” Bucky promises, nuzzling his face into Clint’s neck. His skin is warm, and he smells faintly of pizza grease.

“Your beard tickles,” Clint complains, and he shifts around on the couch so he’s facing Bucky. He scratches the back of his neck in a way that makes his shirt ride up just a little, and Bucky can see the hem of his boxers. Someone who didn’t know Clint might think it was the same ratty pair he’s been wearing for the last three days, but Bucky knows him, knows he has a dozen pairs of the same boxers in various states of unraveling. He _knows_ this man.

“Maybe we really have been together for over a year,” Bucky says, touching his flesh index finger to the exposed skin of Clint’s hip. “Maybe they weren’t the only ones who didn’t realize.”

“Maybe,” Clint says, and the way he smiles at Bucky makes his heart stutter and then gallop. “Maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](http://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/181581475624/on-target-by-1000directions-for-yulecogs-bucky)


End file.
